Vain Imaginings
by the-dramatic-harmonica
Summary: Becky, eager as ever to climb society, finds it difficult after the death of Rawdon in the war. George, bored with his life with Amelia, finds himself fantasing of life with Becky. Dobbin, with this knowledge, imagines his own life with Amelia.
1. Chapter 1

The grey storm clouds added to the overall darkness that shaded the day. Only a few months since the war, new bodies were buried everyday. Becky, adorned in lavish black lace and veil, stared in silence at the pound of the dirt now on her husband. Her eyes wandered to his headstone

_Loving husband and father. Loyal Soldier. We'll miss you Rawdon._

This was her husband now, a stone in the grass. Lost in a sea of black, Becky said nothing. Rawdon's family stood adjacent to her and listened to the preacher's tribute to Rawdon's bravery. Some wept, others it seemed could not bear the weight of the news quite yet. She felt the eyes of Rawdon's Aunt on her, but paid no attention. She came forward to the pile and kneeled, throwing her flowers onto the grave, touching the dirt softly and mouthing a tearful goodbye. She kneeled by the pile so long that Amelia had to silently come and help her up. Her tears were invisible to everyone but her, hidden by the dark veil. Some, she knew, probably assumed the tears to be fake, though they felt real enough for her.

She stood by Amelia as the rest of Rawdon's family parted with his spirit. Finally, after long moments of silence, the funeral came to a close and Amelia led her slowly away.

"I'm so sorry" She whispered but Becky merely nodded.

They walked forward to their maids and George. The three had waited a few meters away, against the trees. Her eyes met George's for an instant and guilt engulfed her. She remembered all too well the words of his note passed the night before the war. They reached the children and George.

She felt sad for Amelia, more so than for herself. She knew that she should be distraught, losing her husband, and though she cried and felt pain, her mind was burdened with other things. Left completely alone in the world, again, she would have to move her way up and make a living for herself as best she could. She feared for the situation that her husband's death had brought upon her and the son she now had to care for.

"I'm so sorry" George chimed as Becky came towards him once the funeral. She nodded, acknowledging his words.

She had paid her respects to her heroic husband and now walked the graveyard with George and Amelia. George seemed distant, more so than usual, holding his hands behind his back and following the women silently. Their maids waited to the side, holding their boys as the women and master walked about the graves, trees and paths.

They circled the park for hours, dressed in the mourning attire. It was dark when they had to part and Amelia's urged that Becky would not walk home alone.

"It will not do" Amelia claimed and Becky smiled weakly.

"I shall be fine. I have my maid with me" she barely had the strength to speak.

"London at night is no place for a widowed mother and her maid to walk, George will walk you." Becky saw George's head jerk up at the mention of his name. He came forward, matching Amelia's stride effortlessly.

"And why would I do such a thing?" He asked

"Well" Amelia pointed out "It would only be natural. You are meeting Dobbin for games in an hour and Becky's residence is on the way"

"Amelia, who will take you home?" Becky asked

"Please, I've got the carriage. I have my maid and a driver, I shall be fine, It's you I worry about. George can take you, can't you dear?" She asked, her hopeful eyes meeting his. He knew the look well, her eyes always held hope much too often when she looked at him. Though she probably believed that he had a kind heart and wished to do his wife a favor by agreeing, she would never imaged in her darkest days, his real reason for agreeing.

"If Ms. Sharpe will allow it" the words rolled off his lips smoothly, a sly tone that Becky noticed but Amelia did not. Amelia, unlike Becky also paid no attention to the use of her maiden name rather than married.

"Becky please!" Amelia asked, now turning to her friend.

"Alright" she said weakly, still strained from crying. "I suppose" she replied and Amelia's face filled with a smile, not knowing that she was to bring her own unhappiness.

***

Amelia sat in the carriage, holding her boy in her arms. Becky and Geroge stood at the door.

"I will return this night" George promised and kissed his son on the head, lying asleep in Amelia's arms. His eyes lingered in hers for barely a moment, before he shut the door without a word.

"Bye dear! So nice to see you Becky! We will see each other again!" Amelia called as the carriage pulled away and set off speedily away from the park.

Becky waved to her friend as the carriage passed and then, walked with George in the direction of her home.

Her maid had gone ahead a near 20 minutes ago, as the young boy had gotten quite noisy and needed feeding.

"Dark days" George broke the silence and Becky nodded, saying nothing.

"I am sorry" He spoke again but again, Becky said nothing in return.

"Do you not believe it?" He asked

"I do" she replied, almost whispering.

"This is strange to me, your silence. I am not accustomed to it, shall we walk the whole way in bitter silence?" he looked at her in response, but she didn't dare match his gaze, watching the ground beneath her feet.

"Or shall I tell you tales and stories? Such as I tell my son?"

"I am not accustomed" she began, as they now walked the main streets "to you speaking this much, silence fits you"

"ah, and there's the Becky I know" he paused, letting his eyes linger on her "though not well as I would like" The effect worked to his exact please, as she matched his glance with horrified eyes.

"Am I too forward to say such things?" he asked, playfulness in his voice.

"yes. But also too bound to Amelia" she countered back, resuming her gaze on the stone street.

Silence followed them till they reached the stairs of her home.

"Well perhaps we shall part" She said, filling up the stairs rather briskly.

"no invitation to tea? Still a lover of parties, aren't you?"

"you have an appointment" she countered his invitation

"we walked briskly. I would be much too early if I went now and to sit in a parlor all my self, It would not do" he responded

She sighed, knowing he would not give up and let him up the stairs to the residence she had shared with her late husband.

Becky changed, merely removed her veil, gloves and overcoat, sitting in a nicely cut black dress. She invited him for a quick tea and after making sure her son was fast asleep, sat in the living room with George, enduring what had to be the quickest tea she had in her whole life. The tea and visit only lasted a quarter and after George finished his second cup, she offered no more, but looking at the time, rose to take him to the door. He acknowledged the invitation to leave and stepped over the threshold. He took her hand in his and noted in his mind her shock at this gesture. As he bowed to give her hand a kiss, he fixed on her eyes, lingering long enough for her to know his intent. His lips curled into a dark smile and he bowed his head, passing his eyes over her neck and breasts as he shifted his gaze. He held her hand in his gently and ever so softly, pressed his cold lips on her warm hand, sending shivers up her spine. She withdrew her hand slightly and though he stood up, he did not yet release her hand from his. His eyes met hers again, though the smile had disappeared. She broke his gaze, looking past him to the wall.

"You do not look in the eyes when you part with a friend?" his intent worked and she fixed him with an icy stare, replying bitterly.

"I do not approve of your looks" she responded.

"and how should I look? Is it not in my freedom, my rights too look how I please?" he answered, still holding her hand in his. He started gently massaging it, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. She made no mention of it and tried not to notice her increase in heartbeat.

"you wrong your gaze. I deserve it not" she snapped, anger rising. She felt so sorry for her friend Amelia, as she knew that George did not treat her well.

"I wish to look" he replied, a sly smile growing in the corner of his lips.

"look if you please, though not at me. Amelia dotes on your looks" she responded. He pretended not to hear. He broke her gaze, turning his attention to her hand. He flipped it over in his, now tracing the palm of her hand gently with his thumb, he sounded distant in his words.

"she would not notice"

"you could tell her" she offered, knowing she should pull her hand back.

"no fun in that" his smile covered his face as he met her eyes quickly before returning his attention to her hand. He caressed her wrist and forearm now, trickling his fingers up her warm skin. She glanced at her hand now too.

"I do rather wish I could have my hand back" she requested

"and if I would, I'd keep it for eternity in my own" he whispered, still captivated in her hand.

"you are married, as am I" she pulled her hand away, bringing his attention back to her eyes.

"you were" he countered, driving her anger.

"and am in mourning." she responded curtly.

"for how long can I expect that?" he teased, his smile devilish.

"you will be late for your games, we should part" she encouraged his departure.

"if it would make your heart content" he whispered.

"and what of Amelia's heart?" she snapped

"what of it?" he asked, as if oblivious to the fact of his marriage.

"I'm outraged that you would give your wife such brief attention" Becky heard the lie run off her tongue, knowing she expected no less from him the moment she had seen him.

"she does not awaken me like you do" he replied, stepping closer to her.

"I wish you to leave now" she stepped back, holding the door, ready to shut. He put his hand on the door, as if to stop her closing it. Enough force to hold her back, yet not a direct attack. His eyes were pleading, a child's. She saw the hope in his eyes, behind the wall of lust.

"you cannot ignore this Becky" his voice begged, but his body stood defensively, as if afraid of defeat.

"call me that not, I am Mrs. Crawly and you shall leave now, before you wake my child" she replied, trying to be as firm as she could, though wondering filled her mind. Wonder of his hands on hers, his hand on her neck, his lips on her neck, his lips on her lips, his lips on her.......she stopped her thoughts and fixed him with a powerful stare, much more powerful than she really felt. She hoped he wouldn't continue this game and would back down, she didn't know how long she could go on like this.

"I did not raise my voice" he replied, softly.

"I need you out" her voice seemed to escape from her body, soft but firm and yet she felt so weak inside, so afraid of her affect on him. His response was sly and though he moved away, his words were more powerful and resounding than his closeness. Spoken with suggestive emphasis on certain words, his goodbye sent more shivers running up her spine, her heart beat quickened and she thanked god that he was finally leaving.

"there is something here, Mrs _Crawely_, deny it or not, it shall remain. Good night. I wish you the best dreams and hope to see you again _very_ soon"

She responded the best she could, but knew that now, he heard the uneasiness in her voice, the crack of denying disposition.

"Good Night Sir"

She closed the door behind him and fell against it, tears running from her eyes. She felt for Amelia, Rawdon, her son, herself and even George. He was not a villain, she knew, but a boy forced to choose, trapped in a life he did not want.

She cried, alone in the world and fearful of her guilt, suffocating her. Immediately her mind kicked in, justifying her actions. She hadn't asked for his favor, for her hand to be in his, for him to look at her so, for him to feel, want her. She hadn't and she had denied him, keeping Amelia and Rawdon in her mind, though she knew not how long she could hold on, if she was faced with another encounter with him alone.

***

Furious, he pattered down the stairs. He had seen an opportunity, he had thought she was different. He had noticed her since introduction, her ironic replies in his mind. He needed escape, escape from his father through Amelia, but now what? A life with her incessant nagging, constant stroking, caring, it drove him mad sometimes. She loved him too much, it annoyed him how childish she was in her love, how naive he saw her. _This is all Dobbin's fault._ He thought to himself, rushing down the streets, preparing a speech to yell at the man. He wanted Becky now, though he knew he couldn't, shouldn't, he thought for a moment that she could let herself go and fall into him, awaken him. He felt so dead, even as he went about life.

Dobbin was waiting at the usual game table, drink in hand, terrified of the stories that George would tell, praying that Amelia wasn't the topic tonight, and yet at the same time, hungering for mention of her. He cursed himself, wishing George had died and not Rawdon, wishing he could have Amelia. He had told George to marry her, to make her happy, if he believed he could have done it, he would have never let anyone else near her, never harmed her by letting her fall into George's painfully neglecting grasp.

"You're late"

"caught up" George responded quickly, settling himself down and ordering a drink immediately.

"how was the funeral?" Dobbin asked and George chuckled.

"how are they usually?" he countered and Dobbin nodded.

"preparing to serve in India?" George asked, quickly unmasking the pointless banter Dobbin had in mind before he had planned to reveal the real reason for his visit.

"If you can bear to have your best friend leave" Dobbin responded and George laughed.

"I can, though Amelia may not" George responded upon receiving his drink.

"Amelia, why?" Dobbin cringed, sounding foolish to himself, though George didn't catch on, he probably never would.

"tell no one" George whispered and Dobbin nodded.

"I can't be with her" he responded, throwing back his drink and ordering a second.

"What?" Dobbin asked, trying not to let the outrage out.

"I don't find her.....well, someone else has caught my eye" George confessed, receiving his second drink.

"who?" Dobbin asked, trying not to let his anger show.

"I couldn't say, you'd lecture me" George replied.

"I promise I wont" Dobbin replied, though he knew he probably would.

"I know you will"

"It would be better to say than to keep it in" Dobbin assured.

"She's married, well was" George responded, sipping his drink.

"married?" Dobbin asked, outraged.

"was" George countered

" you don't mean..." Dobbin fell silent as he knew.

"I knew you wouldn't approve" George responded.

"YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!" he responded, anger rising.

"calm yourself Dobbin, it's just a little bit of fun" George played, looking around the parlor.

"fun? you are married George, even if you weren't, she's widowed and Amelia's closest friend"

"no, your Amelia's closest friend, don't leave her"

"but you're allowed to?" Dobbin countered and a devilish smile plagued George lips

"you knew it would end badly, I don't love her, I can't, she's needy and -"

"And happy George. Don't break her heart to have a little bit of fun"

"she deserves someone else, who won't be annoyed by her every word."

"your annoyed by her every word?" Dobbin asked in disbelief and George nodded, finishing off his drink.

"I had no idea you felt that way" Dobbin said aloud, though the thought barely registered his mind.

"you started this, your fault. You persuaded me to marry her!" George countered.

"don't pin your unhappiness on me, I thought you could love her and make her happy"

"she's a fool in love" George countered.

"you'll break her heart" Dobbin responded, unable to bear the thought of Amelia's sadness.

"William, I can't go on living a lie, I feel as if I betray her even now. Does not my heart deserve to be content?" George asked and William Dobbin's anger subsided for a moment.

"At the expense of her happiness?" he asked and George sighed.

"I don't _want _ to hurt her, but I will disappoint, I will never be able to love her as she does me and guilt wells up inside when I think of her pain" George confessed. "and it is wretched coincidence that Becky caught my fancy, though I see no way to not hurt Amelia. Perhaps If I let her go, she can find one that truly loves her." George wondered aloud.

"Perhaps, though how will you tell her?" William asked. "How will you leave her and your son and just continue life somewhere else?" he requested.

"I do not know, I just know that even as I lie beside Amelia, I feel a betrayer, for my thoughts fix only on Becky" George responded. "You'll take care of her, will you?" George begged and Dobbin nodded, barely able to take everything in.

"George, I want your happiness, I do. But think of your child, stay for his sake, if not for a little longer" Dobbin pleaded and as George's mind played images of the boy's future without him, he agreed. Somehow in his darkness and decision to leave Amelia, his love for the boy bound him to her and their life. She was happy and he would endure his suffering, his boredom and death in life, to watch his boy grow and to watch another's life grow.

Dobbin, pleased with himself and surprised at the easiness to persuade George, still felt uneasy and decided to not take leave to India, but to stay, in case Amelia's needed his guard in the near future, though he both hoped she would and wouldn't.

***

"Goerge?" He was sitting outside, under the shade of the trees and heard her call, a gentle calm call, joyful.

"George dear?" She called again, still full of joy. He paid no heed, trying desperately to return to his book.

"George?" her voice grew anxious now, fearful.

"George, dear, where are you!" she demanded, weakness and fear in her voice, barely concealed by her joyful voice.

"George?" she rushed outside, calling again.

"HERE" he called back, letting the annoyance not sound.

She rushed behind the house and found him in the yard.

"oh, George, you worry me so!" she teased and he dropped his books to his lap, looking up at her.

"what is it, dear?" he added the last word to mask his annoyance.

"shall we go to town George? Dobbin invited us to tea and you've not seen him, for months now, hasn't it been?"

"very well." George replied and left her by the tree, to prepare himself.

In truth, he had not seen Dobbin in two months exactly, the day he had asked Becky to be with him. He'd not seen her since neither, following Dobbin's orders and staying with Amelia for the sake of her happiness and his son's. His thoughts seemed to have been strong in the beginning, but wavered as time wore on. Boredom, he acknowledged had driven him to his actions and he now doubted his feelings for Becky, were true at all.

***

Across from him sat Amelia and Dobbin, talking about the most ridiculous nonsense he had ever heard and as Amelia wore on, Dobbin nodded, as if interested, of all things! It was amazing, George thought, that Dobbin could even speak to her about such things, let alone agree.

"You think so George?" She asked, awaking him from his thoughts suddenly. He met her gaze instantly and nodded effortlessly. This seemed to content her and she turned back to Dobbin.

His eyes wandered the public parlor they were in, as tea was served to all sorts of gentlemen and ladies. His eyes caught a glance of a ruby colored fabric and he immediately recognized her red hair. He tried to look away, but still could not break the gaze, till she met him with her eyes. Amelia, it seems, had asked him a question, which he had been too dazed to react to. She now followed his eye line and burst up from her chair instantly.

"BECKY! Oh, join us, you must!" she called out, rushing to her side. George shot Dobbin a look, as to say _I cannot be here_. and Dobbin nodded, as if understanding.

In a moment's time, Becky was sitting beside George and Amelia was asking her all sorts of questions. No longer in the traditional black for mourning, her red and gold dress stood out among the grey drab of London's attire.

"I must for a walk, Dobbin, join me?" George asked, now standing. Becky's gaze met his for an instant but she did not smile, nor make notice of his departure.

Amelia looked downhearted for a while, but then agreed and George left as quickly as he could, Dobbin hot on his heels.

"wonder why he's in such a rush" Amelia commented and Becky nodded.

"yes, very mysterious" she replied, as she watched George scamper off.

"So Becky, how have you been? Holding all things well?"

"as well as can be expected" Becky answered, fishing for pity and Amelia gave it out as if rehearsed.

"well naturally, you poor thing. I'm sure you're doing the best you can. Especially in your state, been months now hasn't it?" Amelia asked and Becky nodded, grateful for her kindness, yet it teared her up with guilt.

"2 exactly"

"one the day?"

"indeed"

"I do wonder if they are going to return" Amelia started "George and William I mean"

"Do pass on my regards, I regret I will not witness their return, I am due at another engagement quite soon" Becky said the lie so perfectly, it fooled Amelia effortlessly.

"No, but you must stay!" Amelia protested

"and If only I could, but you and I will make a day of it, have tea and talk until our throats run dry, though it was lovely to run into you"

"and you" Amelia responded, nodding as Becky rose.

She watched Becky depart and stared outside the window, spotting George and Dobbin, it seemed as if George was looking at her, but she must have been mistaken, for a moment later he was facing Dobbin.

Through the huge paneled windows that spread along the whole wall, George could see Amelia and Becky quite clearly, even though they were walking 2 meters from it, and in result, about 4 meters from the girls. Walking in a small circle, they passed by the window very often and George allowed himself to glance in the window ever so often. On one such an occurrence, he met eyes with Amelia and saw Becky rise, coming this way, as if exiting the parlor to take the carriages waiting by the street outside. His eyes set on her for a moment before looking back at Amelia who met his gaze instantly. As she looked back to her cup, he faced Dobbin, as if interested in the conversation he was barely maintaining.

"So I shall go to India in the future, though now may not be the best time- George?"

George had watched Becky depart, hail a carriage on the road merely 8 meters away, in plain sight. He watched the young gentleman help her to the carriage and even if for an instant, felt jealousy rise, wishing to touch her hand, even if for a moment. He was sure she looked at him as she seated herself in the carriage, but perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him.

"George?" he looked back up to Dobbin and nodded.

"Shall we return? That seems to be enough fresh air" Dobbin nodded in response and so they went to rejoin Amelia for tea and conversation.

**

"what you spoke to me of, 6 months ago, do you still feel it?" Dobbin asked, careful not to tread on George's nerves.

"What, of Becky?" he asked and received a nod in response. It amazed Dobbin how distant from everything George was, but most of all Amelia. His half-hearted responses, his aimless staring, blanking out and quiet conversation towards her angered the very core of Dobbin, though, he examined in his thoughts, it was better an inattentive husband than and abusive one, or was this not so? Didn't all women deserve to be adored? Loved? devoted every moment to? and yet George's actions spoke what Dobbin feared- he could care less for Amelia.

"nothing there" George responded, suddenly putting down the drink in his hands that he had been twirling and staring at. "Indeed it was a pleasant fascination to bide the time away with, but nothing of value or reality. My thoughts on her have wavered and I've not seen her for 4 months, and not spoken for another 2, so nothing will become of it and I give Amelia all the attention I have ever"

"I feared as much" Dobbin responded before he could help himself.

"and by that what do you mean?" George demanded, meeting his eyes.

"it seems to me that you could treat her kinder, more attention" Dobbin's sentence trailed off, scared of his own words.

"I do the best I can, William. You know how I feel about the matter, shall we not talk on it more," he paused "what of your plans for India?"

"I still plan to go, sure enough, but not for another few months, perhaps. You are sure that your feelings for Becky are done with?"

"I could not be more sure, I promise you that. Seems I am to have no passion in life" and as George spoke the words he heard the echo of his father's words. _You shall not want George. You shall not want. _

In truth, he had not thought of Becky for some time, not seen her for more time and grew weary of imagining a life with her, as it only made life with Amelia less bearable. If there was another option out there, George did not trust his restraint to not take it, so he had, in his mind, abolished the idea all together and decided not to think of the matter, consuming himself with his books and son.


	2. Temptation

He sipped the dark wine blankly, as he did with most things and barely glanced around the noisy parlor room. A pool table lingered in the back, unattended, on any other day, he would have been there, even playing alone, but today, even emotion for that had been drained from him. It was a cold day for the spring, but the heat in the parlor was suffocating. Peals of laughter penetrated his ears, giving his headache strength. He was alone, seated by himself, amidst manly gamblers, ladies and lords. He had told Amelia he was going to the park for a walk, not a complete lie, since there was a park a mere 5 minutes walk from here, and though he had intended on a walk, the parlor and sweet scent of liquor won the battle, drawing him in.

He heard an unmistakably familiar laugh, but shook it out of his head, thinking it was a mere memory and hallucination. He had been thinking of her lately, and that day 7 months ago in which he had so wrongfully asked her to be with him, a day after her husband died! It had been ridiculous, he speculated now, since she could have come to him, if she wanted him, he had given her a letter. As much as he had told himself to stay away, he had not been able, drawn towards her and the passion which he imagined they could share.

He turned his head, lord only knows why and saw, for certainty that Rebecca Crawley was seated a mere 6 feet from him. He took another sip of his drink, watching her in her dark lavender gown and wondered how long till she saw him. She seemed happy, extremely and making up his mind, he threw a coin on the table, got up and made his way to her, one purpose in mind.

"May I a word, Ma'am?" he asked, sincerity in his voice and she looked up and matched his gaze.

"George!" her excitement was fake, that much he could tell. "How are you, where's Amelia?" the second question clearly the one she wanted to ask.

"Well, and she's at home, I'm here alone, can I have a word in private?" he asked, wondering if she would ever let him the chance to be alone with her again.

She saw the softness in his gaze and nodded, bidding a quick farewell to her party of friends with whom she had been joking and gambling with a few moments ago.

They sat a secluded table in the corner of the room and she watched him impatiently, not expecting in her wildest dreams, the words he spoke.

"I have to apologize for my behavior" he looked up from the table to meet her shocked eyes. "let me continue" he asked and she nodded, so he resumed. "It was so wrong of me, to think that you could drop everything, especially at the time that Rawdon, I just need to say sorry and for you to understand that It was a serious wrong doing on my part and I do hope you can still be friends with Amelia in spite of my dreadful actions"

There were moments of silence, as he watched her stare abstractly at the table and trace the wood's age in circles.

"I do, forgive you" she spoke, still not looking at him. "And I hope we can be friends too, I am lost without Rawdon" for once he knew she was bare, stripped, saying what she truly felt, no longer behind a mask. For one moment he saw the true her, her pain and anguish and it was unbearable, sending all the rushing feeling back to his heart. He had truly been sorry, wanted to move past it and had not thought about her in relation to his feelings for months, but now seeing her true self, in that instant, he fell deeper in his feelings than he had ever known, but now knew he could not say a word of it.

"I am" he choked on the words "your friend and here for you" he whispered and she looked up in his eyes and he saw that her eyes held tears, on the verge of falling.

"Perhaps you will come to tea then" she whispered and rose and he followed.

They walked the busy bustling streets to her residence and inside, he felt intoxicated, trapped, the familiar feelings, pulling him closer to an unachievable goal. It all came rushing back, passion and emotions he'd not felt for months. He was silent during their visit and when she rose, he thought she meant him to leave, but offered him another cup. He stood up abruptly. She was holding his full cup of tea and gazing at him curiously.

"I can't" he answered, forcing himself away from her, against the opposite wall.

"George, what's come over you?" she asked, her voice gentle, soothing, too soothing.

"I can't tell you, you'd hate me" he answered, cowering away, taking all his power not to grab her and pull her into his arms and press his lips against hers.

"I wouldn't" she answered. "we're friends now, I couldn't hate you"

"I thought I didn't feel it." he paused, barely able to go on. "well I didn't, for months, feel it"

"go on" she asked, curious to see what he would say and terrified of her affect on him.

"but being here, with you, seeing you cry, well almost cry, seeing you exposed, I-"

"what?" she asked, curious more than ever.

"I think I love you" he responded, whispering. The full tea cup in her hand crashed to the floor as the words resonated in the silence. The red tea glistened on the floor, a perfect puddle surrounding the broken China pieces. One of Becky's gifted collections, meaning nothing, and though there had been a crash, neither of them had heard it, silence filling the air, pulling air from them, suffocating silence. She didn't want to ask, to hear it again. She couldn't and yet part of her wanted to hear it again, so long since she had heard it.

He couldn't look up at her, he couldn't grasp what he had just said. They both stared at the floor in silence.

"I don't know what I'm saying" he said to break the silence, but as the words left him, he realized their lie. "I'm sorry" he whispered, unable to look at her.

"what?" the suffocating silence broken by Becky's uneasy question.

"I didn't know that" he responded "until I said it, I'm sorry, I should go, my deepest apologies Ma'am" She nodded vaguely, still staring at the floor. He was at the door when she spoke.

"your certain of your affections?" she asked, still gazing at the puddle.

"Yes" he choked out the word

"And Amelia?"

"I'll stay with her, obviously, there is no way that you and I-" he stopped, unable to realize what he was saying.

"She loves you" It was a statement from her lips.

"are you mad?" he asked, cautious, as if scared to wake a sleeping lion.

"I don't know"

"I should go"

"yes"

"goodbye Ma'am"

"good day"

He left, closing the door softly and bounding down the stairs so quickly that his steps matched his racing heart. He ran as fast as he could, past shops, homes and parks until he got to a small alley, he fell to his knees and caught his breath.

Inside the home she was trying not to think of it. How could she? Could she say that she was curious? Not that she loved him but wanted him, wanted to experience it? No, she had told herself, this is one thing you can never had, and yet she tried not to think of the pain he most probably felt, that she had devised in rejecting him. But had she rejected him? She hadn't, he had left. And yet, scared and guilty as she felt, she hadn't made a move to accept him, had not put him out of his misery though she had certainly wanted to. If he had touched her, he may have still been here now, though without his jacket, or shirt, or shoes....she stopped herself, as she picked up the remains of the cup. She shook her head and tried to think only of Amelia, but her thoughts could not help returning to his eyes as the words repeated in her head, time and time again, never giving her a moments silence or rest.

***

The puddle on the side of the road that now had washed the dirt onto George's shoe was unmoved, just glistening in it's foreboding darkness. It reminded him of the spilt tea and broken cup, broken shards of his heart, spread on the world and she just stared! Just stared at his broken heart! He couldn't go home, just couldn't face Amelia after his words had left him, after he'd realized the real reasons behind his fantasies and yearnings of Becky. His imaginings had left him bare and now he felt as if the air of the world had been sucked up by the silence that had followed his words.

He felt outraged, at himself more than anything. How could he have let this happen? He had apologized! He'd felt nothing for months! And now a confession of love? What was wrong with him! He reviewed his thoughts, really thought about them and though he told himself and Dobbin that he hadn't thought about her, he knew these were lies, perhaps he had not purposely thought of her, but had been reminded, small things. Traces of red fabric, a secret note, the smell of summer, a deep apple scent. And his dreams, if he looked at them clearly, held nothing but images of her, glimpses of their life together.

As he reviewed the events that had just transpired in his mind, he made up his conclusion, a frightening one at that, to go back and see her. She had not asked him to leave, but just stood there. He would go and resolve this, he was not one to sulk! She would answer him! They would talk about it and resolve the issue, perhaps parting forever, though he certainly hoped that was not the case.

***

The knocking awoke Becky.

"Rawdon, 5 more minutes!" she called, still in her dream. There was another knock "I swear Rawdon, your incessant waking shall be the death of me-"

"ma'am?" the maid had let herself in, and listened to Becky's cries.

"what?" Becky snapped, as her dream Rawdon vanished and she came into reality.

"Mr. Osborne to see you" she said and Becky nodded.

"Let him in" Becky called. She was still in last night's clothes. Not remembering when she had gone to sleep. She had paced, cleaned and cried much last night after George left and must've fallen asleep in her same attire as the night before. He walked in briskly and immediately regretted his decision to come see her now. She sat up and made her bed, then sitting on it, addressed him.

"George" said she.

"Ms. Sharpe, uh, Crawley" He bowed uncomfortably.

"What is the purpose of your visit?" asked she, rising from her bed, to pass towards him, keeping enough distance from him.

"to speak to you and perhaps borrow a book from your library?"

"a book?"

"yes ma'am"

"what of?"

"whatever you enjoy to bide the time away with"

"follow me"

They passed the large, windowed living room on their way to the library. She turned, stopping him in his tracks, half way through the room.

"And what do you wish to speak of me about?" asked she and in response, he took her wrist in his hand's grip and pulled himself closer to her, drawing the gap between them smaller. She pulled her hand away and walked past him, back towards the bedroom, before she reached the door, she stopped and turned for he had spoken 4 words that had stopped her so.

"I need you Becky" he whispered

He came to her, as her back rested on the wall and gently pinning her to it, he looked into her eyes, as if asking her permission. He took her hand in his again and kissed it gently, ever so softly, watching her expression, his own filled with hope. She made no reaction, but no opposition neither. He kissed the palm of her hand now, and then her wrist, then a trail of light kisses along her forearm, before letting her take it back to her side.

"I should not have left last night" he whispered, putting the back of his hand to her cheek, pressing it gently, he traced the back of a few fingers down her jawline, her neck. He pulled his hand away, slowly, tracing parallel to her shoulder, inches above the line of her dress.

"George....." her silent whisper trailed off into nothingness. She met his eyes, and he watched her, as if waiting for an opposition.

"We can't" whispered she, though she knew that she would not oppose his touch, now. There was no going back. He rested his hand on her waist and with his other, pulled his fingers through her loose, wavy strawberry hair that hung in front of her ear, falling to her waist. He moved in closer, and his greedy lips touched against the skin of her smooth, white neck. The sun hit her face now, basking her in a beautiful golden light. He moved away slowly, scared with his every move, he looked into her eyes, for what seemed to be an eternity. He looked from her lips to her eyes again and again, desperate to lock his lips with hers, but fear grew inside him and he kissed her soft cheek instead, lingering his lips on her soft, rosy cheek. Her big eyes, eager, though he knew it not, watched his every move. It was if they had never been touched before, never touched anyone before, and true, though it was their first ever action save for a chaste handshake or a kiss on the hand, their fear was if the world was changing with their actions, and perhaps it was.

"I need you" he heard himself whisper, though he could barely register his actions. Again, he looked to her eyes, her big, eager awaiting eyes and then down to her lips. Moments past, his gaze shifting slowly between her beautiful eyes and ripe, red lips. He could not read her emotions from her eyes, and only continued since she had not opposed him thus far, he tried desperately to send a message with his eyes, looking into her eyes and then to her lips. He leaned in, so slowly, a tock clicking moments away as he leaned closer and closer till he could taste her breath, centimeters away from her lips. He didn't remember moving, and was sure she had not either, but finally, their lips met. Sweet apple flavor he tasted and he held on, only for a moment and pulled away only slightly to study her face. He wanted to say her name, but the words would not present themselves. Her eyes were closed now, having closed during their soft kiss. She whispered his name softly as her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. He didn't dare move, still studying her reaction. She surprised him, by placing her hands on his shoulders, moving her hand down to his lapels. Startling him, she pulled him quickly and forcefully by the lapels, so that their lips met in a searingly passionate kiss. His tongue forced way into her mouth, playing with hers and exploring her touch. She intertwined his fingers in his hair, pulling him even deeper in their embrace. He was pinning her against the wall now, furious with passion as he still kissed her strongly.

What seemed to be hours later, they pulled away, breathless to look at each other. His lips curled into a genuinely happy smile and he brought his head down, kissing her lightly on the neck and then giving her a light kiss on her bare shoulder. Her arms still wrapped around his neck, she was finally able to smile as well.

From across the street, tear filled eyes stared across at Becky and George's embrace, as all had been seen through the giantess living room window.


End file.
